Untitled: will be named later
by His WHOREcrux
Summary: DrHr. PostWar. After the war, Hermione publishes her research on Lycanthropy, getting fame that means that she has become one of the social elite. A few runins with society King Draco Malfoy and a large amount of alcohol can only spell distaster...


Hey!  
So, I'm actually going to try and complete a chaptered Harry Potter fic.  
Wish me luck!

Erm... reviews are very much appreciated, they're pretty much the only way I can guarantee I'll finish this. Also, any corrections are welcome, although I'm using the Harry Potter lexicon to try to avoid OOC-ness and inaccuracy.

Warnings: Draco/Hermione pairing, but stops off at a few ships along the way. May be some slash pairings on the side.

Disclaimer: You think I'd be posting here if I actually owned this stuff?

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_Prologue _

Hermione Granger knocked back a shot, making a disgruntled face.  
"You boys are going to be the death of me, I swear!"

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville watched her with amusement. Ron's handsome face contorted itself into a look of mock horror as he began his favourite pastime- teasing 'Mione.  
"Boys? Nah, Hermione, we're big manly men now! See the pure muscle!"  
His words were a little slurred from all the Firewhiskey he'd consumed, but his silly grin and accompanying wink had the whole group roaring with laughter.  
Hermione shot back a reply and soon the pair were going at it just like old times.

Luna's voice from the corner, where she sat on Neville's lap, rose above the good natured bantering of Hermione and Ron. Her pale cheeks were flushed from sitting by the fire, and quite possibly the fact that Neville's hand was resting just under her shirt.  
She shrugged and leaned into him, frowning a little.  
"He's right, you know. We're all growing up. We're 22, and just look at us. We're like children!"  
Her fiancée shook his head. Merlin, she was a maudlin little drunk.  
Ron rolled his eyes, swigging from his bottle. The mood in the room had gone from mildly carefree and slightly tipsy to sombre and sober in less than a minute.  
Neville turned to the girl on his lap, a comforting look on his strong face. He hadn't had much to drink yet, and he knew the it was his job to lighten the mood again.  
"Yeah, but sometimes, growing up is good for us, love. Look how I turned out… Look what Hermione's achieved!" Neville smiled consolingly, the scars on his cheek standing out from his face and marring the image. Luna glanced up at him, her dreamy eyes full of something that Harry recognised as love.  
He looked over at Hermione, noticing the look on her face too. She looked a little sad. With all her accomplishments, she still hadn't found the right bloke.  
She grabbed Ron's bottle from his hands, ignoring the muffled protests and finished the rest, aware of the pair of green eyes burning holes in her head.

What use was a book deal when you had only research material to come home to at night? He'd never dare bring up the subject with her, if only because right now she was drunk and they all knew what Drunk Hermione was like.  
Unfortunately, Harry's own love interest was not so tactful.  
"Get a room, Nev!" she giggled, feeling slightly vixenish herself as she ran her fingers through Harry's hair. Neville abruptly stopped his hand's slow progress up Luna's top, grinning good-naturedly. "Besides, Hermione may have a book deal to celebrate, but she should be doing it with some able-bodied bloke, not us lot!"  
Ron groaned and shook his head, chuckling to himself.  
This was an old argument, and certainly not one to start after they'd forced the little authoress to do shots! Ginny should really have known better.

Drunk Hermione (who, I must add, is a little different from her sober counterpart) smiled indulgently at the fiery little redhead.  
"And you've _celebrated_ with a great number of 'able-bodied blokes' since the war, haven't you Gin?" Neville and Harry exchanged glances, before each stifling chuckles. They knew the rules:  
Don't question Hermione when drunk: she lets a few too many home truths slip out.

They loved her to pieces, but they weren't brave enough to get into the firing line themselves… so they sat back and watched the show. Luna merely winked at the man whose lap she sat on, absently running a hand up and down his arm.

Ron, however, had had almost as much to drink as Hermione, who was no lightweight. He laughed freely, before Hermione turned her eyes to him. Giving him a smirk that closely resembled the one on Malfoy's face the day he'd joined the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione stretched luxuriously. Ron's eyes were drawn to her chest, and the little contented moan she made as she settled into her chair made him a little… uncomfortable. He shifted positions in his seat, trying to make his problem a little less obvious.  
Just when he thought he'd escaped one of Hermione's painfully accurate jabs, she opened her mouth. Everyone looked at her, grinning inanely. This was going to be good.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you Ron. After all, what would you do if I did decide to shag someone before you got the chance to tell me you're in love with me? Or… in lust with me, that might be a better way to put it right now"

There was a sort of stunned silence in the room, before Neville decided to break the tension. Finally letting go of the laughter he'd been holding back, he raised his glass.  
"To Hermione! Our favourite drunken authoress. May she never forget the little people!"

Around the room, the six friends raised their glasses of champagne, smiling. Nobody took offense at Hermione's words, they all knew it was just the truth anyway.  
But in his little corner, Ron Weasley vowed to tell her soon…  
And Hermione Granger vowed that one day, she would have a better way of avoiding the topic of her sex life.  
Hell, maybe she'd actually GET one.


End file.
